


There's no Time for Catchy Lines

by penombrelilas (crookedspoon)



Category: Castle
Genre: F/M, Gen, Introspection, Writer's Block
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-14
Updated: 2011-04-14
Packaged: 2017-10-28 18:39:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/310954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crookedspoon/pseuds/penombrelilas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lately his advances on inspiration are met with indifference.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There's no Time for Catchy Lines

_Tap, tap, tap_ echoes from the office, a hollow sound, not the industruous flutter of fingers over the keyboard but the ponderous staccato rhythm, like a broken shower head.

Stagnation on a page counts as one of the worst maladies for a writer in his book, except maybe for broken wrists or the flu. You might want to argue that that's the true nature of a page: stagnant, fixed and unmoving? He'd disagree; a page full of words is a living thing. It might not breathe or might not plunder your fridge, but it's alive. You will notice when you read those words, when they become more than just ink splotches disturbing white space. Those words can form images in your mind, and breathe life into the characters until you think you know them like your real friends.

That's what good writing should create: vivid images in the reader's mind. A stagnant page does nothing of that sort. It just sits there, staring back at you. It's a frightening stare. Almost accusing. What the hell are you doing? it asks.

He has no answer.

It's terrible when the story begins to lose faith in its author, doesn't want to be written by him anymore. He has to prove himself worthy again, but how? Castle has been struggling questions of that ilk too many times. His conclusion: there's no one answer.

He can remember how easy writing his first Nikki Heat novel was, once inspiration reeled him in. He just had to follow where it led.

Now, he's the one fishing, but nothing wants to bite. At the same time, he knows his inspiration is down there somewhere, probably partying with the mermaids, having a good time, without him. All because he's run out of bait.

If only he could lure Beckett out for a drink or a late-night show at the movie theater. It wasn't for the lack of courage or opportunities or anything similar that permeates the plotline of romance novels -- because clearly this was neither fiction, nor romance; just healthy comradeship, a Muse-writer relationship.

At the end of a long day of endless paperwork, or a recently-closed case, Castle would wait for Beckett to meet his eyes, hold them just a little longer than necessary, as if anticipating Castle to go ahead with his plan to abduct her, yes -- expecting him to, even.

Castle would don his Charming-Lad smile and his lips would begin to form the first syllable of his question, when Beckett's phone would ring. As in every second-rate drama, it would be Josh, the rival in love -- but who is talking of love now? This would only be dinner.

In the brief moment before Beckett's eyes would zip away from him, he would see regret battling with joy in them, as she picks up her phone, apologizes and leaves. Just like that.

And just like that, he'd return to _tap-tap-tapping_ his fingers against the casing of his laptop. How was a writer supposed to meet his deadlines, when his Muse walked out on him, newborn inspiration in her arms, and gracing someone else with it?

Maybe he could use that. Maybe inspiration has been there all along, perched atop his shoulder, he just wouldn't listen. Or would it be too clichéd to introduce another love interest in Nikki Heat's life?


End file.
